


The Sick Chemist

by MaddieFurtado



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, John Ships It, One Shot, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock in Love, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sick Sherlock, Tom mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieFurtado/pseuds/MaddieFurtado
Summary: Text Copyright 2017 © Maddie FurtadoSherlock was bedridden. He just finished solving a case, a case that was in his mind the best case he’s had in months. Unfortunately, throughout solving the case, Sherlock had to face drastic weather conditions. At the time, this didn’t bother him. He’s Sherlock bloody Holmes. He never gets sick.Well, so he thought.One-shot. Sherlolly.





	The Sick Chemist

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: How about a science joke? Have you heard the one about the sick chemist? If you can't helium and you can't curium, you'll probably have to barium.
> 
> Set after 3x01 (TEH) 
> 
> Sherlolly. Johnlock Brotp. Eventual Sherlolly. One-shot.

 

“MRS. HUDSON!!”

“MRS. HUDSON! WHERE’S MY TEA?”

“For heaven’s sakes Sherlock. I’m right here.”

“Ugh, this is so tedious.” Sherlock whined.

“Well, it’s your own fault, dear.” Mrs. Hudson scolded, placing his tea down beside him.

Sherlock was bedridden. He just finished solving a case, a case that was in his mind the best case he’s had in months. Unfortunately, throughout solving the case, Sherlock had to face drastic weather conditions. At the time, this didn’t bother him. He’s bloody Sherlock Holmes. He never gets sick. Besides, he’s been through way worse taking down Moriarty’s network. Not only is he surprised he got himself sick, he’s surprised his best mate John didn’t get sick as well.

Sherlock sat up in bed with a groan. He grabbed his tea, taking a slow sip out of it. He couldn’t breathe, his head was pounding, no matter how much ibuprofen he consumed. He felt dizzy, nauseous and down right irritable. More than usual, he admits.

Mrs. Hudson has been taking care of him… well sort of. She brings him a cup of tea occasionally. And even though he claims to have no appetite what so ever, she’s bought him some soup from Speedy’s but it’s just sitting in his fridge right now, not being eaten.

“Why did you have to go through that storm though, couldn’t you have waited?” Mrs. Hudson said, picking up dirty laundry from the floor in his room.

“No!” He wheezed out. 

Mrs. Hudson wore a scowl on her face.

“A man’s life depended on me being there at the right moment. If I – “Sherlock stopped suddenly, and started to cough. “If I waited for the storm to pass, he would have been dead.” He finished, sinking back into bed.

“Yes, well… at least it’s just a cold and not something worse.” She said earnestly, picking up a sock by his bedside.

“I know.” Sherlock whined again. “But I never get sick…” He mumbled.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head with a smile and threw the rest of his laundry in the hamper by his dresser.

“Try and get some rest, dear.” She said, while closing the door to his room.

* * *

 

“How is he doing?”

“Last time I checked, he looked fine. But you know how much of a child is. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I feel great. I just felt sick for few hours. But then again, he was out there longer than I was.”

“Well, go on up. He’ll be glad to see you.”

John nodded and made his way up the stairs to 221B. He hasn’t been around the past few days because he’s been busy planning a wedding and starting his new job. Plus - Sherlock is already hard to handle on his good days, imagine him being sick? John shook his head to that thought and opened the door to the flat.

“Sherlock?”

He wasn’t in the sitting room, wasn’t in the kitchen.

“Sherlock? Mate?”

“John?” Sherlock said, meekly.

John heard it come from Sherlock’s room. He made his way over, but before opening the door, he called out…

“Sherlock, you okay?”

John waited patiently by the door, placing his hand on the handle.

“No. I’m – sick.” Sherlock whined.

John shook his head with a chuckle. He did sound like a child.

“Can I come in? Or is it contagious?” He smiled, turning the handle and finally opening the door.

But what John saw, wiped the smile off his face.

“Sherlock, you look horrible.” John said, closing the door behind him.

“Well, thanks Doctor.” Sherlock muffled with his head on the pillow.

“Seriously Sherlock. When was the last time you ate or drank anything?” John said, walking up to his beside.

“I drank some tea….” Sherlock responded, turning over slightly to point at the half-full cup of tea beside his bed.

“A cup of tea is not enough mate. You need to drink A LOT of liquids. Preferably water?” John said, reaching over and placing his hand on his forehead.

“Uh John!” Sherlock scowled, slapping his hand away. “You don’t have to check my temperature!”

“For fuck sakes, Sherlock! Stop being a child!” John snapped.

He then reached over again and took his temperature.

“You’re boiling, Sherlock!”

“Mmm.” Sherlock hummed, throwing the blanket over himself.

“Mate, you’ll have to go see a doctor. It’s not just a cold anymore, you’ll need antibiotics.” John stated.

“No!” Sherlock challenged.

“SHERLOCK! You’re just a pale as your bed sheet! Your temperature has to be to be over 100!”

“Ugh! No!” Sherlock moaned in protest.

“You’re sweating like you just ran a marathon! More than likely dehydrated and probably haven’t ate anything for more than 4 days! Get your bloody ass up and let’s go!” John ordered.

“You’re a doctor, something you never seem to let me forget. Can’t you just give me something?” Sherlock shot.

“No! I’m not authorized to hand out prescription medication. I was an army doctor. I’m not a physician.” John shot back.

“Uhhhhh.” Sherlock moaned. “But you work at a clinic!”

“Let’s go mate, seriously. You don’t look good. You might need to be hooked up to an IV.” John said, placing his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder.

With a heavy sigh, Sherlock finally sat up. He picked up his phone on the night table beside him and typed.

“Who are you calling?”

Sherlock ignored him and held his phone to his ear.

“Mycroft. Can you send a doctor over from Bart’s to examine me?”

“Really? You’re that lazy!” John commented.

“I’m sick. John says I need a doctor.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know he is a doctor…. Apparently, he is not qualified…”

A moment passed before Sherlock spoke up again.

“Yes, yes. Bye.” Sherlock said, hanging up the phone.

“Well, is someone coming?” John asked, placing his hands on his hips.

“Yes, he’s sending a doctor.” Sherlock replied, rolling back into bed. “Oh, John?”

“What?”

“Can you - get me some water?”

“Bloody hell.”

* * *

 

Yup, just as he predicted. He had strep. Sore throat, nausea, paleness... all the works of the common strep cold.

The doctor the checked him out insisted that he come back to the hospital with him right away to be put on an IV. Sherlock’s body was low on nutrients and he was severely dehydrated. He said it was the easiest way to bring him back to health and pump some antibiotics in him as quickly as possible. Sherlock obliged and finally went to St. Bart’s.

On the way over, John texted Molly. Letting her know what was going on. He knows Molly worries. Even though nothing is going on between his two friends, he also knows that Sherlock would want Molly to know what’s going on. There is something there, John can feel it. Upon arriving, John placed his phone back in his pocket and helped Sherlock out of the car. Sherlock was admitted immediately upon the request of the doctor that checked him out, Dr. Smith.

* * *

 

It took about 10 minutes for Sherlock to be hooked up to an IV, changed into a hospital gown, and put on bed rest.  He felt very nauseous with all the fluid entering his system. He just laid there in his hospital bed, stared at the ceiling, and tried his hardest not to throw up.

Sherlock looked over at the ticking clock that was sitting on the wall.

_2:30pm_

Molly has her break at 3pm. She usually goes to the canteen, grabs a cuppa – maybe something to eat. Depending how much she ate for lunch. That’s usually how it goes.

Sherlock wonder’s when she is going to come see him. He knows she knows he’s here. He knows John texted Molly letting her know what was going on. He didn’t see John do it - he was half-passed out in the car - but even with him being this sick, Sherlock can still deduce it. John is predictable that way.

The sound of the door opening knocked Sherlock out of his thoughts.

“Hey mate, how ya feeling?” John asked, walking towards his bedside.

“Better, obviously.” Sherlock muttered.

“You look better. You got colour back in your face.” John pointed out, sitting on the chair provided in the room.

“How long do I have to be here? This is boring.” Sherlock grumbled.

“As long as it takes mate till we can get you back on your feet, taking your own meds.” John laughed.

“Did I mention how tedious this was?”

“Yes, the whole way to the hospital and then some.”

“Molly will be here soon. She texted me earlier.” John said, changing the subject.

“Yes, I figured she would come after her shift.” Sherlock concluded, rubbing his free hand on his face.

Stubble. If Molly were to do anything, she’d definitely feel it. When was the last time he shaved? He honestly can’t remember.

John was watching him intently before he looked towards the ground.

“How are you guys anyway? We haven’t seen much of her as of late.”

“When she brought _him_ over to Baker Street was the last time. I haven’t seen or talked to her since.” Sherlock stated.

“You’ve been avoiding her. Why?” John asked, clasping his hands together on his lap.

“I don’t – want to get in the way.”

“In the way of what?”

“Ugh John, please. I know you know what I’m talking about!” Sherlock snapped lightly.

“Yes. I just wanted to hear you say it. No such luck, I suppose.” John chuckled, shaking his head.

“I get it though… it’s awkward. He looks like you, dresses like you…” John listed off.

“It’s not just that…” Sherlock stammered.

“Oh?” John’s eyebrows shot up.

“It’s nothing Jo-“

The sound of the door opening interrupted their conversation…

“Hello?”

Molly.

* * *

 

“Molly! Come in! He’s awake.” John said, motioning towards Sherlock.

She came in with dainty steps towards the other side of the bed with a small smile on her face. Sherlock looked her up and down as she made her way over. She had her hair up in a bun, with a few strands out that framed her face. She wore a light pink blouse and some jeans, that hugged her curves perfectly and her lab coat. She looked pretty.

_In a steady relationship. Glowing with confidence. Graceful steps. A little flustered. But happy…. she was happy._

Happy that he was okay… or for another reason entirely? He couldn’t deduce it. No – he didn’t want to, that was the real reason.

“Hello John.” She said, looking over towards him.

“How are you Molly? How are things? _We_ haven’t seen you in a while.” John asked, placing his hands behind his back.

“I’m doing just fine. And sorry about that, I’ve been pretty busy.” She blushed lightly.

“Oh yeah, Tom. How is he doing?”

Sherlock groaned inwardly.

“Great!” She said, sweetly. Not making eye contact with Sherlock.

“Well, I’m going to go get some coffee and call Mary. I’ll leave you two to catch up.” John said with a smirk.

Once John left the room, the air got thick – Sherlock noticed. Molly looked towards the ground and then made her way over to where John was sitting, minutes before.

“You look – well…” Sherlock commented.

“I am. But you – I could say different.” She chuckled.

“Yes, I’ve been told.” Sherlock smiled lightly.

“So, how did you get sick? A case?”

“Yes, I was caught in a rain storm for a few hours. It was worth it though.” Sherlock explained, with a gleam in his eye.

“I’m sure it was.” She smiled.

“I’m not surprised it took you this long to get to the hospital. You never really were one to get sick.” She stated, picking at her lab coat.

“I know…” Sherlock agreed.  She always knew him so well. He still doesn’t know how that makes him feel.

“How’s...Tom?”

“Still not a sociopath.”

“Good, good.” Sherlock replied, looking down at his hands.

“Sherlock…why have you been avoiding me?” She asked, boldly.

Sherlock looked up at her with slightly wide eyes. He didn’t expect that. Molly always surprised him.

“What- uh – what do you mean?” Sherlock stumbled over his words.

“You know exactly what I mean.” She said firmly.

“I haven’t been – avoiding you?” He said more as a question then a statement.

“Stop. Just stop.” Molly hissed.

 _Stop fibbing, Sherlock. She knows when you’re fibbing_ \- Mary teased in his mind palace. 

Sherlock lightly shook his head to get rid of Mary’s echoing words that popped in his head.

“I wasn’t avoiding you… intentionally.”

“Yes, you were. You still are.” She replied with a frown.

“Is it… because of what happened that day? Between us? Is it… because of Tom?” She stammered out.

“Molly.” Sherlock sighed.

Molly sat there staring at him intensely. He couldn’t do nothing but stare back. There was a moment of silence before Molly spoke up again.

“Fine. Let’s talk about something else.” She suggested.

Sherlock let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“The autopsy I did today, it was pretty interesting…”

* * *

 

“Want to hear another one?”

“I’m sure I’ve heard every morbid joke you have to offer.” Sherlock chuckled.

The nurse brought Sherlock some food, now that he’s strong enough to sit up and actually eat. It wasn’t much since his appetite isn’t that big. Not that it ever was to begin with. It was chicken noddle soup and some crackers.

“Well, how about a science joke?” Molly chuckled.

“Okay.” Sherlock replied, setting his cup of water down.

“Have you heard the one about the sick chemist?”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“If you can't helium and you can't curium, you'll probably have to barium.” Molly laughed.

Sherlock broke into a laughter along with Molly.

“That was terrible!” Sherlock said, after their laughter died down.

“It was great, what do you mean?” Molly joked.

Sherlock smiled at Molly.

He can’t remember the last time he laughed that hard. Molly always seemed to make him feel… well – happy. Her sense of humour for one. Her morbid jokes are hilarious in his eyes. Maybe it because he’s just as morbid as she is. That’s one of the things he loves about her.

Love. Oh. That’s a hard topic to talk about. What he feels for Molly… he doesn’t know what those feelings are. He cares about her, that’s a given. He is pretty fond of her, that’s something he can admit to. He trusts her with anything, especially with his life. But is it more?

Sherlock always felt that he was married to his work. Sentiment – what a funny thing that normal people feel. Sherlock is not normal. He doesn’t have time to be in love. But he can’t shake these feelings he has for Molly. But these feelings…. he can’t label them. He’s not sure why: is it because he doesn’t want to? Or because he honestly doesn’t know what they are? Could be both.

Suddenly, the sound of the door caught his attention.

“Oh, Molly. You’re still here?” John said, slipping into the room.

“Yeah, but I actually got to get going.” Molly said, fixing her lab coat.

“Now?” Sherlock squeaked out.

“Yeah. I’m actually late for my next shift.” She said, looking down at her watch. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Sherlock.”

“Thank you.”

Sherlock watched her walk to the door, but before she left, she turned around and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes…

“Don’t be a stranger anymore, Sherlock…come by the lab sometime.” She said with a sly smile.

Sherlock face turned a shade of pink and swallowed thickly.

“Bye John!”

And she was gone. A wide grin spread over John’s face while watching that little interaction between his two friends.

“Well, that was… interesting.” John laughed.

“Very funny.” Sherlock scowled.

“Looks like you're feeling better, you ate all your soup.” John said, nodding his head toward the empty bowl in Sherlock’s hands.

“Yes. Much better. I would actually love to go home.” Sherlock stated, setting the bowl back on the tray next to him.

“Alright, I’ll talk to the doctor on call. Be right back.”

* * *

 

“Did you take your medication, Sherlock?”

“John, I’m a recovered drug addict, do you really think I forget to take my drugs?”

“Piss off, Sherlock.”

Sherlock felt better than ever actually. He only had a few doses left of his medication and he was good to go.

When he got discharged from the hospital, the doctor told him to take it easy until he got back to 100%. He was told not to do a lot of running around and keep drinking a lot of liquids. Oh course, this didn’t appeal to him, but he actually did what he was told for once. Plus, John wasn’t having it. So, Sherlock took it easy.

He still solved cases. Most of the cases he solved was right out of his home. Didn’t even have to leave Baker St. There were a couple cases he sent John out for and they were solved within the day it was presented.

“Here.” John said, handing Sherlock his cup of tea.

“Thanks John.”

John sat in his usual chair and sipped his tea lightly. Sudden realization hit him – What happened with him and Molly?

“Mmm-“He said mid-sip.

“What did you guys talk about?” John asked.

“What are you talking about?” He replied, typing away on his phone.

“You and Molly. When I was gone, what did you talk about?” John persisted.

Sherlock kept his eyes on his phone.

“What did we _talk_ about?” He repeated.

“Yes! Did you work things out?” John coaxed.

“Not really. Although, she did ask me why I was avoiding her…” He replied, quietly.

“And? What did you say?”

“I told her I wasn’t.” Sherlock said, avoiding eye contact.

“Which is a lie.”

“Yes, something she saw through, anyway.” Sherlock said while rolling his eyes and picking up his tea to take a sip.

“So, you didn’t work things out?” John stated, crossing his arms.

“Not really.”

“Alright, well… let’s go.” John called, standing up from his chair.

“What? Go where?” Sherlock questioned, placing his cup down suddenly.

“To Bart’s?” John replied, putting on his coat.

“No! John! I’m not going to Bart’s!” Sherlock snapped.

“Why not?”

“The doctor, he said not to go anywhere.” Sherlock replied quickly.

“He said to take it easy, not stay at home and never venture outside. Nice try.” John responded with a shake of his head.

John then started walking down the stairs to the front door.

“John! Wait!”

He stopped right before opening the door to leave.

“I… can’t, okay? Please stop meddling and take my word for it.” Sherlock said, looking down at him from the top of the stairs.

“It is about Tom? I saw your face when you met the man, when you saw them together… do you know what kind of face you made?” He asked, with a smug smile.

He started making his way back up the stairs, into the flat with Sherlock following behind. He then stopped in front of Sherlock, waiting for him to answer. Sherlock then placed his hands in his pockets and started to pace the flat.

“I hoped for her happiness. I told her she deserved to be happy. That not every guy she’d fall for would turn out to be a sociopath…” Sherlock rambled.

“Sherlock- “

“That Moriarty slipped up, that without her none of it would have been possible! That the one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me was the one who mattered the most!” Sherlock finished with a huff.

Sherlock suddenly stopped pacing and sat down on the couch in his flat. He ran his hands through his hair, letting out a huge sigh.

Realization hit John. Hard.

“You’re… in love…with her.” John stammered out.

Sherlock covered his face with his hands.

“That’s why you are avoiding her! That’s why you only go to the lab when she’s not there! That’s why you didn’t call her for help on that one case even though you really needed it! You didn’t want to see her… happy.”

Sherlock looked up at John with a hurt face. “What a deduction John! Still looking for a new job? You can take mine!”

“This all makes sense now.” John said dreamily, sitting next to Sherlock.

“John. What do I do?” Sherlock pled.

“Well, first, you need to admit to yourself that you’re in love with her. I know that’s a huge thing for you, Mr. ‘Married to my work.’” John chuckled.

Sherlock slumped in his seat.

“Admit it - out loud?”

“Yes. Out loud.”

Sherlock sighed and sat up straight in his spot.

“I- “

John raised his eyebrows, waiting for Sherlock to finally say it.

“I love her.”

John smiled.

 _“I love Molly Hooper.”_ Sherlock repeated. Sherlock got lost in thought, he didn’t notice John sending a text to a certain someone.

“It’s about bloody time. Now – go and tell her.” John said, getting up from the couch, knocking Sherlock out of his thoughts.

“What! I – I can’t!” Sherlock stuttered, getting up after him.

“Yes, you can! You just said it!” John replied.

“John – “

“Sherlock, honestly. Tell her how you feel. You and I both know how she feels about you.”

Suddenly the door to the flat swung open, with Molly standing there, trying to catch her breath.

“What’s the emergency! Is everyone okay?”

A shocked look of surprise set on Sherlock’s face. John smiled smugly.

* * *

 

“So, there’s no emergency?” Molly questioned, accepting her tea from Sherlock.

“No. Not at all.” Sherlock answered, sitting down and crossing his leg over the other.

“Oh. Okay. Then why did John text me that then just leave? I don’t understand…” Molly inquired, talking more to herself than to anyone else.

Sherlock sighed.

“I guess John is not a predictable as I thought…” Sherlock trailed off.

“What? What do you mean?” Molly asked.

Sherlock placed his cup of tea down and look Molly in the eyes. The sudden eye contact caught Molly off guard. Her face started to flush.

“Molly, there is something … I have to tell you.” Sherlock said, swallowing thickly.

“Okay…” She replied quietly, placing her tea down.

“I was avoiding you and yes, it’s because of Tom.” Sherlock admitted.

“What? Why?” She responded, confused.

“It’s because… I lost.” Sherlock said, clearing his throat.

“Lost? Lost what? Sherlock?”

“I lost you.”

Silence filled the flat while Molly and Sherlock stared intensely at each other.

“I… don’t… understand.” Molly whispered.

“Molly, while taking over Moriarty’s network - I thought of you quite often. I thought of you when I was safe. And especially when I wasn’t. You’ve helped me escape some very difficult situations. You saved my life, more than you know.”

Molly watched Sherlock speak with wide eyes. Sherlock kept his eyes on her.

“You were the last person I saw before I went to take on the task of getting rid of that awful disease known as Moriarty and I missed you, terribly. I still miss you, Molly.”

“I missed you too, Sherlock.” Molly said gently.

“After returning, you… moved on. I wanted to tell you all this but… it didn’t seem right. I wanted you to be happy, Molly.” Sherlock confessed.

“Sherlock – “

“But I meant what I said. Everything I told you. There’s just something I left out.” Sherlock choked out.  

“Then tell me now. Tell me.” Molly demanded. She had such hope in her eyes, it caused Sherlock’s heart to skip a beat.

“Molly…”

Molly then stood up from her spot and slowly walked over to him. Sherlock watched her every move while she kneeled and placed her right hand on top of his. Sherlock looked down at their hands and turned his over to hold her hand. She smiled.

“Did – did you just check my pulse?” Molly asked, with a shaky breath.

He didn’t even notice himself do it. He was so hypnotized with what was going on in the moment. But he did.

“Yes.” Sherlock replied.

“What did you … deduce?” She asked, huskily.

“Elevated heart rate… dilated pupils…”

Molly smiled shyly.

“Tell me, Sherlock.” She pled. “Tell me what you need to say.”  

_Say it, mate. Go on. She’s practically begging for you to say it._

Thank you John.

"I- “

Molly stared intensely into Sherlock’s eyes while he opened his mouth to speak again.

“I love you.” Sherlock said softly.

Molly’s breath hitched at his confession.

“I’m in LOVE with you.” Sherlock said, matter-of-factly.

Sherlock pulled Molly’s hand, causing Molly to fall into Sherlock’s lap with a little yelp.

“I love you too, you silly man.” Molly admitted, placing her hands on his chest.

“Your finger?” Sherlock blurted.

“What?”

“It doesn’t posses a ring…” He answered with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, yes. I ended it with Tom today.” Molly announced, playing with Sherlock’s collar.

“You did?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“It didn’t feel right. My heart belonged to someone else.” She smirked, rubbing her hand on his cheek. "It always did."

Sherlock smirked back, leaning closer towards Molly.

“I’m…going to kiss you now.”

“I don’t know… you might be contagious still.” Molly laughed, leaning closer as well.

“Please Molly. I'm not sick. I never get sick.”

Molly giggled before their lips finally met. It was a soft kiss but so full of passion. A kiss, to Sherlock, that was long over due.

 

Maybe he should get sick more often.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this as much I enjoyed writing it. :)


End file.
